


Loved You So Long

by Kikimay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caretaking, Getting Back Together, Head Auror Harry Potter, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Draco Malfoy, Rimming, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-07-28 03:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16233395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikimay/pseuds/Kikimay
Summary: Draco and Harry were lovers once, their relationship had to end because Draco needed to carry on the Malfoy's name. Now that Harry needs him the most, Draco will fight for him and for their long lost love.





	Loved You So Long

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sassy_cissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cissa/gifts).



> Dear Sassy_cissa,
> 
> You asked for a romantic story with Draco and Harry getting together or coming back together. I chose the latter, and I hope you'll like reading this story as much as I liked writing it for you. May you have a fantastic holiday!
> 
> Thank you so very much, Chris (Keyflight790) for your incomparable work as my Alpha & Beta reader. Your attention and cheering were the best form of support.

 

Draco Malfoy knew how to be the perfect host.

As a child, under the careful guidance of his parents, he learned the art of flattery, the pensive and graceful pause, the confident handshake, the prolonged smile. He learned how to please those who could advance his position or improve his financial status. Or so he thought. Spoiled and indoctrinated with pureblood ideals, he missed all the best chances in his youth.

Still, he did survive the war, and over the years was able to cultivate a perfected image of himself and his family; not much for the sake of his own disgraced name, but for the only person who truly deserved it: his son, Scorpius.

If all his courtesy and affability would have granted Scorpius the beautiful life he deserved, Draco would have been ready to sacrifice truth and the harshness of his character for it. And he did, and he succeeded.

“He’ll become a great Auror, anyone can see that,” said a voice from behind him.

Draco turned around, perfectly poised and mindful of his role as a host for the annual ‘ _Forces of Light_ _'_ ball to which he had personally contributed.

“Professor Slughorn,” he greeted, holding his hand out. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Dear Draco, dear Draco!” the Potions Master exhaled. He looked ancient and his laborious attempt of a laugh betrayed his fatigue. “So nice to see you! I remember the days you were a student of mine - a quite brilliant one, if I may add - it feels like yesterday! How time flies! As if a Time-Turner were spinning on us!”

“Indeed. How come you have decided to join us this evening? I don’t remember reading your confirmation owl?”

The old Potions Master toddled like a penguin.

“When one reaches my age, one forgets the formalities. You must forgive me, Draco.”

“Of course. I’m glad you decided to come. Please,” he gestured towards the buffet table. “There are lovely sweetened pineapple cakes. Completely organic.”

Slughorn nodded and took leave with half a bow.

Draco looked at the shimmering ballroom; Scorpius was chatting with a group of friends, his blond head waving at the rhythm of a laugh. The wizard smiled to himself and reached for a goblet of wine.

“He’s an exceptional boy.”

The voice he would have recognized anywhere belonged to Harry Potter. Although changed by the years, deeper and perhaps a bit more harsh, it always carried a familiar note that felt like kindness to Draco.

“Head Auror Potter,” he greeted, raising the goblet towards his host. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” Harry replied, his cheeks flushed and his forehead slightly frowning; his embarrassment was still so easy to guess. “I tried to be more than fashionably late.”

“So you did. The reporters noticed.”

“Are they gone?”

“I sent them away with a very good excuse, I knew you would have arrived late.”

The tension seemed to flow out his body, as Harry gave him a smile.

“Here,” Draco said, offering his goblet and taking another for himself. “Let’s have a toast.”

“Is this the fancy stuff rich people like to drink?”

“You are rich people too, Harry,” the Slytherin pointed out. “But yes, it’s from a selected harvest and you’re going to like it.”

Harry took a careful sip of Draco’s chosen white.

“It’s good,” he sentenced.

“Glad you like it.”

“The ballroom looks nice too, I can see your taste in the decorations.”

Draco looked at the flowers and the old furnishings he had taken from his own antique shop.

“I wanted to make everything perfect as one of the major contributors, as Scorpius’ father” he explained. “I can’t thank you enough for giving him the chance to prove himself. He only wants to be a good Auror, to help people.”

“I know.”

“To make you proud of him,” Draco added. Harry frowned, very predictably. “You are the best boss and role-model a young Auror could hope to have. I’m glad you’ll guide and teach him. I know you will protect him.”

He turned to Draco, distinguished and polite, so perfectly suited for the event in his dark blue robes.

“I swear,” Harry said.

“Thank you,” was the whispered reply.

Draco’s left hand stopped carrying the goblet, flew closer to Harry’s. A woman voice interrupted him.

“There you are!” Harry’s girlfriend rushed to kiss him. “I didn’t see you before, I was worried you had chosen to stay at home!”

He smiled at her without really answering.

“Draco,” she then greeted, acknowledging the other wizard’s presence. “This party is exquisite.”

“Thank you, Isobel.”

*

The corridors of the Manor had always been silent, but since Scorpius chose to move into a small flat in London, their silence had become oppressive. Walking through the halls, Draco couldn’t help but feel the weight of loneliness in every empty portrait, in the dark tapestries hanging on the wall. Perhaps the Manor needed a bit of ‘restyling’, as his son once suggested.

A resounding ‘pop’ roused the contemplative wizard. He folded his hands behind his back and smiled at the materializing elf.

“Good morning, Tippy.”

“Sir!” she greeted, her eyes made bigger by excitement. “Is it true that Little Master Scorpius will join us for lunch?”

“That’s exactly right. He should be here in about three hours, after his workday ends.”

“I’m so happy, Master Draco, Sir! I missed Little Master!”

“And he surely missed you, he’ll gladly stop by the kitchen before lunch.”

Tippy jumped on the spot, grinning. She was brought up in a traditional way, and couldn’t bear the thought of joining her masters in the dining room, but enjoyed Draco’s familiarity and loved to spend time with Scorpius, who was always respectful and loving. A far better child than his father had been.

“Have you got an idea for the lunch menu?” Draco inquired.

“Kidney flan, Sir! And the crusted potatoes Little Master likes so much. Chocolate pudding for dessert!”

“It seems a very good choice.”

“I’ll get to work right away, Master Sir! How nice to see Little Master again, how exciting!” the elf took a lopsided half bow and disappeared.

Draco kept strolling towards the gardens.

*

The crimson red of the Auror uniform suited Scorpius more than Draco had imagined. The young man had combed his fringe forward, in the use of his peers, and his signature Malfoy blond was enriched by the gentle curves of wavy hair. He had brown eyes, expressive and warm, so dissimilar from his father’s; his pale skin was pink on the cheekbones and he face was rounder and softer.

“So,” Draco began, interrupting a vigorous attack to the potatoes. “This old father would love to hear about your work, Scorpius.”

The boy blushed, covering his mouth.

“Sorry Dad, very hungry,” he muttered. “Work is fine.”

“Could you give me more details?”

Scorpius swallowed his bite and took a sip of water, before talking again.

“It’s mostly paperwork, to be honest,” he started. “We have to do patrols and such on scheduled times, but nothing interesting has happened so far. Just an old wizard who forgot to properly clean his cauldron. I would love to see more action, but it doesn’t seem likely to happen just yet.”

“Don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger, Scorpius.”

“I’m not saying …”

“I know what you’re saying and, as your parent, I’m giving you advice.”

“You sound like granny Cissa.”

Draco grimaced at that statement, and cut his meat in little symmetrical rectangles.

“But you’re happy,” he began again, hopefully more in tune with his son’s emotions. “Working at the Ministry makes you happy?”

“It does,” his son smiled to his relief. “I can make a difference in there. I can truly help people.”

Draco smiled back.

“What about you, dad?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you have plans?” Scorpius asked. “What are you doing these days?”

“Nothing of particular interest. I’m finally managing to sell those vases we had in the store for months, I’ll be visiting your grandparents towards the end of the week.”

“Do they still live in Paris?”

“Yep.”

“Nice, I guess. Anything else?”

Draco frowned.

“What more do you want to know?”

“I thought …” Scorpius shrugged, bit his lip and dropped his fork. “Have you seen Harry Potter recently?” he asked, raising an uncertain glance towards his father.

Draco cleaned his mouth with a napkin.

“I did, at the event.”

“And nowhere else?”

“Where else should I see Harry?”

“At work, if you stop by to visit me,” he answered in a small voice.

Draco put the napkin down.

“What is this about, Scorpius?”

“Listen, Dad, this is embarrassing for me, too.”

“I doubt it.”

“It is!” Scorpius rebutted. “We are both grown-ups and your sentimental life is none of my business … except that its sort of my business too, because you’re my dad and I love you and you don’t seem very …”

“Very...?”

“... Fulfilled.”

Draco raised a single eyebrow.

“Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes,” Scorpius replied through clenched teeth. “I don’t mean to embarrass or mortify you, but I have to be honest. I see Harry everyday now at work, and he seems to be … just like you. I’m not a child anymore and I understand that if things didn’t work out the first time …”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dad,” Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Really now?”

“This conversation is ridiculous,” Draco said, pushing his chair back. “You think you’re an adult just because you’re working now …”

“I _am_ an adult!”

“Scorpius, I won’t fight with you over this sillness.”

“And now you sound like grandpa Lucius …”

“Alright!” Draco raised his voice. “You’re comparing me to my parents in order to have an emotional reaction from me!”

“That would be nice, yes! In case you forgot, you have emotions too,” Scorpius replied and, for some reason he looked closer to tears.

Draco felt at loss of words, stared at the white napkin on the side of his plate.

“Where were we when … I remember it was a solitary beach,” his son mused. “I was little, six years old maybe, and Harry showed me his signature Patronus, the stag, just to make me happy. Recently I wanted to search for that beach, but I couldn’t figure out where it was myself. Crappy investigative skills, after all.”

“It was in Malta,” Draco whispered. “And you were eight.”

Scorpius turned to him, brown eyes full of sorrow.

“I’m sorry you had to sacrifice your happiness. I wish I could help.”

He searched for his father’s hand and felt it upon his own, comforting and strong.

“You are my happiness. But yes, I suppose I could stop by once in a while, if your superiors wouldn’t mind. I’m glad you remember that day; it was a good one.”

“Yeah, it was good.”

*

The Malfoys’ residence faced the Champs Elysee. For some reason, Lucius Malfoy’s power hadn’t diminished in France and he was still able to treat himself and his wife with various commodities. He used to do it, at least, before getting too old.

Draco walked towards the balcony and moved the curtains to take a breath of fresh air and admire the view.

“Scorpius is settled at the Ministry, right? He’s such a smart boy, he’ll make you proud … Draco, please, you’re inhaling the Muggles’ awful pollution!” Narcissa said. “Draco,” she called again, sitting in a white expensive sofa. “Darling, let me look at you.”

He turned to her and she gave him a hopeful smile.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

She was wearing a dress that ended below the knee, her long hair was twisted on the back of her head. She looked younger than her age, except for the eyes. Narcissa’s eyes told a different story, one that Draco knew too well.

“I’ve missed you too, Mother.”

“Will Scorpius come to visit us in Summer?”

“I’ll have to ask, he’s very busy as you can imagine …”

“Of course, of course. And he already saw Paris, I suppose that the city doesn’t hold its mystery anymore.”

“I promise I’ll talk to him in any case,” Draco replied, consolatory.

Growing up and learning about the Wizarding history and the amount of involvement his grandparents had in the rise of Voldemort, Scorpius didn’t feel comfortable enough to see them anymore. Draco understood his reasons and, although he still cared for his parents, he swore to never force a decision upon his son. Scorpius’ freedom of choice was sacred for him.

“And you, how are you?” his mother asked, pointing at the tea tray next to her.

Draco served her the first cup, before preparing his own.

“The Manor is in order,” he told her, adding milk to the blend and ignoring the sugar. “I managed to sell the vases for a fair amount of gallons that will help with the upcoming expenses. I hope to make more around Christmas time, when sellers are easily approachable.”

“That’s all business, my darling. Isn’t there something else you want to share with me?”

“Something else?” he parroted with his customary arched eyebrow of incredulity.

“Do stop, darling,” Narcissa said. “I’m married to your father. Talk to me openly, isn’t there someone special in your life?”

Draco opened his mouth, then place the cup on the tray.

“I can’t believe you’re saying this,” he uttered before getting up and walking towards the balcony.

“Darling, please!”

“I’m a grown man, Mother, hardly a darling! And you should know better than anyone else that I already did my duty to this family and -”

“I’m not talking about duty!” Narcissa retorted, raising on her feet too. “There’s no need for duty anymore.”

“Isn’t there?” Draco spitted. “I married when I had to marry and did everything that was asked of me, even though this family was in ruins, even though I could have abandoned the both of you to your destiny and build something else for myself!”

His mother’s eyes filled with unleashed tears, but her expression wasn’t soft or weak.

“We all do what we have to do in order to survive,” she said slowly, with iron determination. “I already apologised for the pressure you had to endure from your father and I.”

“Well, Mother, lovers don’t wait forever. Not for me.”

Narcissa swallowed back tears before speaking again.

“But there’s still hope, there’s could be someone new …”

“The Malfoy’s name isn’t something I want to thrust upon anybody else,” her son replied. “We already had this discussion and I’ve already told you how I feel. Now excuse me, I have to go back.”

Narcissa nodded. When Draco reached for his cloak, she spoke again.

“Please, go say goodbye to your father. You know he lives for it.”

Draco halted, then walked towards Lucius’ bedroom.

*

Coming back from Paris gave him a terrible headache. He hated to travel so fast, to be forced to Apparate every other mile in order to cover the distance more quickly - he hated to see his father bedridden and frail, to say goodbye to his mother, to have to argue with her over things of the past.

He stopped at Diagon Alley for a _Mind-No-More_ potion and headed towards the Ministry, where Scorpius was waiting for him. He had promised to visit, after all.

As he entered the Aurors’ office, he was invaded by an avalanche of flying notes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” said a young girl, chasing the notes away.

Draco fixed his hair.

“Don’t worry,” he courtly replied to the girl who looked vaguely familiar.

“Are you Scorpius’ father?” she asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“You look very much alike,” she shrugged with an embarrassed half-smile. “Let me call him for you.”

“There’s no need, if he’s busy …”

 _“Dad!_ ”

Scorpius’ voice interrupted the sentence. The young man walked towards him.

“I’m glad you came to visit!” he exclaimed. “Let me introduce you to Susie Longbottom,” he added, pointing at the young girl who chased away the fastidious notes.

Draco was then able to recognise the round face and blond hair, and reddened cheeks so very similar to those of a boy he knew at Hogwarts.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Longbottom,” he greeted, offering his hand.

She accepted the handshake.

“The pleasure is mine,” she said, blushing.

Another young girl stopped by; she had bushy hair styled in two symmetrical buns and an heart shaped face dusted with freckles. Draco immediately recognised her severe glare.

“Rose!” Scorpius called and the girl came forward, although reluctantly. “She’s Rose Granger-Weasley,” his son explained. “I’m sure you remember her parents.

“Of course I do,” Draco replied. “Nice to meet you too, Miss Granger-Weasley.”

She offered her hand without softening her gaze.

“If I remember correctly, we’ve met before,” she said, an acrid note in her voice. “When I was a child, yes?”

“You do remember correctly. You’ve become a fine woman, you look just like your mother.”

Rose grimaced in such a way that made her look even more alike to her mother, and perhaps her father too. Draco couldn’t help but hide a secret smile.

“You’ve met the younger members of the team,” Scorpius said, breaking the soon-to-be awkward pause. “And if you come over here, you’ll meet …”

“... The boss.”

With one hand resting of a desk and a self-assured grin painted on his face, Harry Potter greeted him.

*

“You came to keep tabs on Scorpius, or me?” Harry asked, as he poured a generous amount of firewhiskey in the glasses sitting on his desk. He offered one to Draco before sitting in front of him. “I’m not going to put him in danger … as far as I can make that choice.”

“I know, I know … I simply …” Draco squeezed his eyes shut and took a sip of his drink. “He asked me to stop by and this seemed a good day as any to do so.”

“Hard day?”

“I went to Paris.”

“Mh.”

Harry stood up again, fixed something from a pile of files, and then sat again behind his desk. His untamable hair was pushed to the side and there was a little cut on his face, hidden by the beard. He still wore round glasses that made him look even more authoritative and reassuring. But then Draco recalled the same slightly lopsided glasses on a windy Quidditch field, and how they were often wet with rain or whitened in the fog. Harry always managed to best him in the search for the snitch.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Sorry, what?”

“You have a thoughtful expression,” Harry pointed out.

“Oh. Nothing.”

Harry nodded, although he seemed saddened by Draco’s answer, as if he was waiting for something else.

“I … thank you,” Draco whispered, raising the glass in his hand. “For everything you’re doing.”

“Don’t thank me. Not for Scorpius being an Auror; he’s talented and he worked hard to be selected. I didn’t do him any favours. Whatever happened between us, however things are … that doesn’t change my fairness to the children, and my faith in them.”

Draco smiled.

“You called them children.”

“They start so young,” Harry shrugged.

“They do. As we were, once upon a time.”

Harry’s frown deepened as he looked at the firewhiskey. Draco felt sorry, wanted to apologise and kick himself for his bad timing, for his inability to shut up.

“Harry …”

“It’s nothing. There was maybe a time for us,” he said. “But it’s passed and it won’t come back. I have to accept it.”

*

The firewhiskey was burning down his throat and the rain-soaked shirt clinged to his skin, embracing his bones with a cold bite. Draco shut the door behind his back and crumbled on the rich Persian carpet in the Manor entrance hall.

When he was younger, he would have cried. He would have screamed and smashed expensive knick-knacks on the walls. He would have called Potter a liar and a cheat, and would have unleashed all his frustration onto him, making him the villain of the story to absolve himself for every sin.

He knew better now. If not gracefully, he would have aged wisely, and he would have never hurt Harry more than he already did.

“Master Draco, are you alright Sir?” Tippy asked, shyly approaching him.

“I’m quite alright. Just a bit drunk.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I could make you a nice cup of tea, something of the more strong variety perhaps?”

“Something strong it is,” Draco replied and pushed himself on his feet, straightening his wet jacket to regain the dignity and posture of a proper wizard. “I apologise if I worried you, Tippy.”

“Master Sir, you don’t have to apologise. Tippy is here to serve! Tippy does get worry because Master seems sad, but Tippy won’t ever let her master feel sad for her, too. Tippy is here to take care.”

“You do a wonderful job. Will you make the tea as I take a shower?”

“Most certainly, Master Sir. Tippy will make the best cup of tea so Master will feel better soon.”

“Thank you, I’ll be in my bedroom.”

*

In the shower, Draco pushed his palms against the tiles and tried to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. He had learned so well to compartmentalize his emotions and relationships; perhaps that was the final consequence, to be unable to express his pain even when he needed to the most.

He finished washing up and ended his wallowing in self-pity with a deep breath. Wrapped up in a towel, he reached the bedroom where a steamy cup was waiting for him. He decided to revise some documents and focus on business, when the owl arrived.

_Can we still be friends?_

_HP_

*

It was early in the evening, the time of the day when the shop was hardly visited by any possible customer, when Draco decided to fix the mirrors on the side of the wall in order to make them more attractive to the eye.

 _“We’re already good looking as it is!”_ an old inlaid whined.

Draco raised his eyebrows, and continued to move it. The bell at the entrance door jingled.

“Welcome to the … oh, it’s you.”

A menacing-looking Hermione Granger closed the door behind her, and stared at him with an intense glare that could have turned wizards into frogs.

“It’s me.”

Draco straightened his robes, walking towards her.

“How can I help you, _Minister_?”

“I know what you’re doing, Malfoy,” she said before correcting herself. “Well, I don’t know! Tell me, what are you doing?”

“Meaning?”

“Harry!” she replied, outraged by his pretended thickness. “You already broke his heart once. I won’t have it happening again, not on my watch!”

“I have no intention of hurting Harry, and that won’t be happening anyway as he’s in a relationship.”

“It will never work with Isobel,” Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes. “She’s nice, but he still isn’t over you, unfortunately.”

Draco’s heart jumped on his throat, a thrill of sudden joy overwhelmed by a pang of infinite sadness. He leaned on an antique lavatory.

“He asked me to be friends.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said yes,” he admitted. He broke Harry’s heart once already, and he was so shamefully naive in thinking that answering his owl would have been an innocent act.

Hermione stared at him with crescent rage, then sighed in resignation.

“You were the one for him,” she admitted. “All these years and he never forgot you. Sometimes I can’t help but thinking it’s pure insanity and masochism on his part, like he wants to punish himself for something. Maybe the war. He could have had so much more.”

Draco swallowed a lump in his throat.

“... But the heart wants what it wants,” she admitted. “Or at least that’s what Ron always says. I hope you understand how painful it was for him to let you go, how hard it was to see you after Astoria passed away.”

“Don’t drag her into this!”

“I didn’t, you did!” she countered. “You already damaged a man who deserved only love. Harry’s my best friend, and the person I care about the most in this world, apart from my family. If you hurt him again, I’ll make you sorry.”

“I’m counting on it.”

*

A melancholy sun had raised above the fog when Draco woke up. It was nine o'clock and the breakfast was on the tray next to his bed, but he didn’t feel like eating. He sighed, turning among the warm sheets, his cock still wet from when he woke up in the middle of the night, aching and unhappy.

There was a letter in front of him, crumpled and almost torn. ts blue ink had bled onto the pillowcase, tarnishing a silver frill-shaped ‘M’. Only one sentence was readable from where Draco was laying.

_... We went to Dublin, where Isobel’s parents are staying. It was nice. As I told you on the previous letter, I needed to come back because …’_

Draco sighed again, covering his eyes.

“Bloody tosspot,” he chanted lowly. “Fucking selfish …”

He pinched his arm right above the Dark Mark, like he used to when he was younger and desperate. He laughed joylessly. Suddenly he was feeling like a teenager again, masturbating in the night and torturing his marked arm. He even contemplated the idea of sulking in bed longer, but he needed to get some work done before Scorpius arrived for their traditional Sunday lunch together.

*

The table was ready, a candlestick needlessly put at the centre and silver shining cutlery still untouched. Draco tapped his finger on the tablecloth until Tippy appeared.

“Is Little Master still not here?” the elf asked, huge eyes watering in concern.

“I’m sure Scorpius will arrive soon,” Draco replied. “His work is very important, he has great responsibility and that should come before everything else. If you want, you could sit here and …”

“Oh no, Sir! I could never! Never ever! I …”

“I’m sorry, Tippy, that’s quite alright,” the wizard whispered, stopping the verbal self-flagellation that would have followed his reckless proposal. “I’m going to check on him now, let’s see.”

The elf nodded, trotting behind him.

Draco kneeled in front of the fireplace and activated the Floo.

“Scorpius?” he called, once he was certain he was connected with his son’s apartment. “Are you home? Scorpius?”

He waited few minutes with no avail, before deciding to call Abraxas. The great gray owl landed on his arm, and Draco gave him a treat.

“Find Scorpius for me.”

He waited for almost an hour, until the food became frozen on his plate, before his son’s Patronus, a shining falcon, entered the room carrying the worst possible message.

_"Come to St.Mungo's, dad. I'm fine, but please come."_

*

Draco made his way into the small crowd that had gathered on the reception floor. He had recognised young Susie and some members of the Auror team he met during his visit to Scorpius’ workplace. Turning at all directions, he tried to spot his son’s distinctive platinum head.

“Scorpius!” he called out loud. With deep worry twisting his guts, he couldn’t care less about embarrassing himself. “Have you seen my -”

“Dad!”

Draco spinned on himself, the corridor becoming alight as he did so. He spotted his son in his crimson red uniform and rushed to him.

“Scorpius!” he breathed out, grabbing him by the shoulders, eyes scanning every single detail; his uniform was stained with something like mud, he had a cut on his lip and one on his forehead. He didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere else or having broken bones or …

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Scorpius sobbed, embracing him.

Draco froze in terror; he didn’t remember seeing his son so deeply unsettled since Astoria’s death. He held him in his arms as tightly as he could, hoping to give him some comfort.

“Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I’m sorry,” Scorpius repeated. “I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t …”

Draco loosened his hold, cupped his boy’s wounded face in his palms.

“My darling …”

“They took Harry.”

*

Draco sat impossibly still as he listened to the Minister’s explanation. Harry and his young teammates had Apparated to a deserted location where strange sightings had occured. They had spread out along the perimeter, following procedure, when they had arrived: rogue Dementors searching for souls. Harry managed to save the team, but had been captured somehow.

“The good thing is that you’re all here, and you can help us in finding Harry,” Hermione murmured, fighting back the tears.

Draco found himself thinking that he wouldn’t have cried, that the story he was listening felt like an absurd dream happening to someone else and that he was fine, so utterly and completely fine, sitting in a crowded corridor without really seeing anyone else. The knot in his stomach had turned into an icy rope, permanently choking his breath.

“You need to stay back, Scorpius.”

His son’s name stirred his senses. Draco stood up to look at Hermione.

“What?” he muttered.

Granger frowned at him than directed her attention back at Scorpius, who was talking to his peers, collar unbuttoned and eyes reddened with tears.

“You need to go home and rest,” she said, motherly. “We’ll call you back, we’ll call you all, but we need you focused and sharp if we want to save him.”

Scorpius opened his mouth to protest, but Draco cut him off.

“She’s right. It won’t help getting you hurt, or worse. You need to gather your strength.”

“But he’s -”

“I know. Still you need to rest,” he whispered, brushing his cheek.

His son agreed.

*

He informed Tippy first, while Scorpius was taking a shower. His son’s sofa was covered with worn shirts that Draco didn’t bother to move. He realised the state of the little flat once he heard the water stopping, and Scorpius’ steps towards the bedroom. His domestic spells were pitiful; still, Draco hoped to achieve a decent result.

Before he started to contemplate the idea of food, Scorpius’ friends came in carrying assorted supplies and beverages. A young man with a turquoise fringe approached him.

“Cousin Draco,” he whispered.

“Teddy.”

“He’s strong. They are going to find him.”

“Of course they will.”

That night, Draco started at the ceiling of his son’s apartment, eyes wide open in the darkness.

*

The days passed in a blur. Sleeping on Scorpius’ couch, waiting for him in the evenings, listening to the news. Suddenly it was Sunday again and Draco needed to take care of the deliveries for his shop.

“I think you should stop by Grimmauld Place,” his son said while they were having breakfast.

“Why?”

“Teddy told me,” Scorpius blushed, lowering his eyes. “Harry likes to wear his own clothes when he comes back from the missions.”

“Yes,” Draco whispered. “He used to do that … I’m going,” he decided, raising from the table to grab his coat.

*

When he arrived at Grimmauld Place, he remembered how Harry’s house was protected and could have been seen only if Harry himself had wanted you to.

Once upon a time, Draco would have rejoiced in seeing the ancient Black House appearing, terrible in its elegance, so incongruously majestic among the Muggle architecture. Now he looked around feeling utterly idiotic in his attempt to collect Harry’s things: why would he ever haven been allowed into the house?

For a brief moment though, he had closed his eyes and wished to see the familiar door with the silvery handle. It didn’t seem unlikely, as he stood there, to see Harry coming from a bush or waving his hand from behind a tree, rushing to Draco and telling him that the Aurors were wrong, that his disappearance was simply an elaborate prank.

He turned on his heels, muttering silently about his stupidity. As he took one step forward, he heard a familiar cling from behind. He stilled, turning around.

The silvery handle snake seemed to greet him.

*

Harry’s bedroom was as much of a mess as Draco remembered. Exceptionally clean, despite the dust that had settled on the furnishing after a week of uninhabited stillness, but carrying some of Harry’s chaotic energy in the shirts threw on the armchairs, in the half opened drawers.

Draco smiled to himself. He recalled Harry telling him about his aunt, Petunia, and her obsessiveness over order, explaining how he must have developed a specific allergy against rooms that were too tidy. _'Nothing got my aunt more apoplectic than seeing worn clothes on armchairs.'_

Draco caressed one of the shirts, held it up to his nose and breathed Harry’s scent. He realised immediately the mistake he had just made, as he felt his knees yielding and the tears stinging the corner of his eyes.

“Harry, Harry, Harry …” he sobbed, kneeling on the floor. If he truly needed to cry, that was his moment, when nobody was around. “Come back, please. Come back.”

His prayers stood unanswered.

*

Three clean shirts were taken from his Grimmauld Place drawers. Two jumpers - a green one with an ‘H’ that Harry loved for sentimental value and a blue one that was incredibly comfortable; two pairs of joggers, four pairs of boxer-briefs, two vests and five pairs of socks. Draco placed them neatly into a bag and added deodorant, a razor and a balm he had bought in Diagon Alley.

He decided to leave everything at Harry’s office, where the bag would have been kept until Harry’s return. He owled Harry’s secretary to inform him of his upcoming visit and the reason of it. He took the lift, kindly ignoring the wizards who wanted to talk to him.

Once he arrived in the nearly deserted office, he looked for the secretary and instead he saw Isobel, standing in front of Harry’s desk.

“I apologise, I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you are doing.”

She turned around and stared at him in silence. Her lovely brown hair were tied in a messy ponytail, her eyes bloodshot. She spotted the bag he was carrying.

“Sorry,” Draco whispered automatically.

“No, you’re not,” she replied. “And you still have access to his house, I see.”

The wizard opened his mouth but was incapable of coming up with a good answer.

“Have you ever thought about being a competitor to the ghost of an ex-lover?” she asked him. “Of course you couldn’t have. There’s no competition. You’re the one for him.”

“Haven’t you heard? He could have done better,” he said.

Isobel’s glared at him, then grinned.

“Can I offer you something to drink? I know where Harry puts the Firewhiskey.”

“Please.”

They sat down in front of the empty desk, nursing their drinks. Draco left the bag in the cabinet where Isobel found the bottle.

“Harry doesn’t drink much, but he likes one when he closes a really bad case.”

“I remember,” Draco replied, crossing his feet. “He invests too much of himself in the job. He cares about the victims and the strangers he may encounter and that drains him emotionally. Sometimes I wished he was able to put distance between himself and the others, but then … he wouldn’t be Harry, wouldn’t he?”

Isobel nodded.

“Do you know why I’m here?” she asked.

“I can imagine …”

“No, you can’t. I’m here to say goodbye,” she said. “I can’t do this.”

Draco frowned.

“You are confused, although you shouldn’t be,” Isobel noticed. “We were never that close, me and him, and you are aware of his feelings for you.”

“Yes, but …”

“I’m not an accessory, not a scorned girlfriend. Harry loved me with all he had at the time and it was good. He couldn’t force himself to feel what he didn’t feel, and neither could I. I care about him, I care very much. I hope they do find him soon. But when they do, I won’t be the person standing by his bedside, nor will I kiss him welcome back.”

“He’ll need to see the people he loves the most,” Draco replied, his eyes tearing up again, much to his disappointment.

“I agree.”

The tears fell, scorching hot on his skin, a painful memento of his undeniable weakness.

“I broke his heart, don’t you know the story?” Draco said.

“Tell me. I’ve always wished he did.”

He dropped the glass on the desk and took a deep breath, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“We started as on and off lovers before having a proper relationship, a shared flat. Then, I was twenty-five and my parents reminded me of my duty as the Malfoy heir: a family was needed; a child who would have carried our Merlin-forsaken name was needed. I had to do my duty. And I did. I loved Harry, but I wasn’t brave enough to face my parents for him. I couldn’t really imagine having him at one of our dinners, with Father glaring at him for his poor etiquette,” he laughed, then cried out even more, head hurting from the pain. “He hated me, for years. He forgave me only when he saw Scorpius …”

Draco wasn’t capable of talking anymore. He hid his face in his hands and waited until the sobs had subsided.

“Why didn’t you get back with him after that?” Isobel asked.

“Because of Scorpius’ mother, for the respect I owed her. Because what I did was unforgivable; I was weak and a coward,” he spat out, raising his blazing eyes. “A grown-arse wizard who wasn’t able to face his parents, to be himself! I’ve never hated anyone more than me.”

“I see,” she said, raising from her chair. “You should do something about that hate, because it won’t help when they finally find him.”

*

Forty-eight days passed. Draco returned to the Manor, his son promising to keep him posted with a daily owl.

He was adjusting a table leg when Scorpius’ Patronus flew from the windows to the ceiling of his shop carrying the message.

_"We've found him! St. Mungo's fourth floor, he's tired and wounded but he's alive. Harry's alive!"_

Draco jumped on his feet and Disapparated.

*

A small crowd of Aurors and friends had gathered in the corridor outside Harry’s room. As the Healers entered to visit him, Hermione Granger took the time to relay the facts to all bystanders, congratulating each and everyone of them for Harry’s rescue.

“He’s tired, more ruffled than his usual,” she joked, concluding her brief speech. “But he’s here. Harry’s safe now. I’ll keep you posted and give you instructions soon. Thank you again for your good work.”

The crowd clapped for a minute before starting to disband. On the St. Mungo’s corridor, there were only few people left: Hermione, Ron and their daughter, Rose, Teddy Lupin, Susie Longbottom, Scorpius Malfoy and his father Draco, who seemed to be sitting in silent reflection.

“Aren’t you happy, Dad?” his son asked, bending towards him. “I’m going with Susie for the report, but we’ll come in the evening to see him and … we’re very happy. He’s finally back with us.”

“I’m very happy too,” Draco smiled. “A bit dazed, I must admit.”

“It happened so fast, I understand. I think you should wait here, see him as soon as it’s possible.”

“We’ll see about that. I’m going to ask the Healers.”

Scorpius nodded and, with a hesitant smile, he took his leave alongside his collegue.

Draco got up from his seat and joined Ron and Hermione, who were chatting intently.

“Malfoy,” they greeted him, interrupting their conversation.

“I won’t take much of your time,” he said. “I inform you that I’ve already put together a bag of Harry’s favorite clothes. It’s in his office, in the cabinet near the desk and you could take it, in case he wants to dress more comfortably. If you don’t want me to visit him -”

“No,” Hermione stopped him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to … I think it would be good for him to see familiar faces.”

“How is he, really?” Draco asked with trembling voice.

“They broke his leg, and a couple of ribs,” Ron answered. “But that will be fixed soon by the Healers. I’m more worried about his mental state. He looks … lost. These Dementors were rough.”

“How could they have …” Draco bit his lip. “I hope he gets better soon.”

“That’s what we all hope.”

*

It took twenty-four hours to almost completely heal Harry’s physical wounds. His state of mind didn’t seem to improve, though. He was suffering from the consequences of prolonged starvation and exposure to rogue Dementors.

Only Hermione, Ron and Teddy were admitted in his room by the Healers, who were monitoring their patient’s emotional recovery as much as the physical one. On the third day, Draco was called to bring in the clothes.

*

“He looks very tired,” Teddy told him in the corridor. “As if every interaction exhausts him, so don’t worry if he doesn’t respond or seems indifferent to your presence. He’s just recollecting his energy.”

“I won’t tire him more than I need to. I just need to see him once.”

“I know,” the young man replied. “I understand.”

As the cousins approached the private room door, a Ministry officer surpassed them and tried to open it.

“Excuse me?!” Teddy called him.

“I need to question the patient,” the wizard said without turning. “This is taking too long and we need facts.”

“No, you don’t!” Draco intervened, putting his hand on the door handle, obstructing the passage. “Harry is resting and he doesn’t need to see ugly faces.”

“Sir, I’m a Ministry officer and -”

“Does the Minister know you are here?”

“I have specific instructions …”

 _“Does. She. Knows?_ ” Draco stressed each word through his gritted teeth.

“I’m suggesting you to let me pass, or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Please,” Teddy started again. “We don’t need to do this now. Harry could hear us and …”

His words were premonitory.

“Who’s there?” Harry cried from the inside of the room. “Who’s there?”

“Harry, it’s …”

_“LEAVE ME ALONE!”_

The door was pulled with such force that the officer and Draco were pushed aside in separate directions. The unnamed officer lost his balance and fell on his arse; he swore loudly as he did.

“Who are you? Why don’t you leave me alone? I want to be alone! I want to be alone!” Harry screamed at him. He was wearing a gray pyjamas, his hair was shaved, his eyes unfocused. He wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“Mister Potter!”

“I don’t … I don’t remember where I am,” Harry gasped. “I don’t remember!”

“Harry, it’s me,” Teddy started. “I’m going to call the Healers, you need to calm down.”

“I don’t remember! I don’t remember!”

“Stay calm, please.”

“Auror Potter, you pushed me on the floor ...”

A painful scream rose from Harry’s mouth as he fell on his knees due to his debilitated state. Draco was on him immediately.

“Harry, darling,” he called, holding the aching wizard tightly to his chest, stopping the frantic hands that were trying to hurt them both. “It’s me love, it’s Draco. You’re home, you’re home …”

Harry trembled and turned away, eyes wide open in fear. Draco couldn’t think of anything else than to rock him like a child, like he used to do when his son woke up in the middle of the night, sniffling and sobbing after a nightmare.

“It’s me, love. You’re safe now.”

Harry tried to push him away, then buried his head into his lover’s neck.

“Draco …”

“That’s exactly right, my love. I’m here.”

“Draco,” he repeated in a small, hurt voice.

The lips pressed upon his brow felt warm and Harry sighed, closing his eyes.

*

The Healers gave Harry a tranquiliser potion and and put him in bed, where he was currently shivering in his sleep. He looked nothing like the powerful Auror, the noble War Hero he always was. Draco felt his heart tearing apart at the sight of that much ailment. An assistant broke off his hold on Harry’s hand and he was forced into the corridor once again.

“We need to stabilise him,” was the justification.

Draco nodded and sat down, a world of emptiness in his chest.

*

Hermione and Ron, who were registered as “family” in case of emergency, arrived thirty minutes later. The Minister was livid, searching for the officer and for those who had allowed his presence. Her husband seemed calmer, but his flaming ears and morose eyes were telling a different story.

They were called by Head Healer in a tiny office; Draco heard them raising their voices while outside. The meeting didn’t last long and after awhile, the door opened and Ron called for Draco.

*

“I understand that you are Draco Malfoy, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Eunomia Stanmore and I was chosen to conduct this conversation with you as Harry’s previous Mind-Healer.”

Draco nodded groggily, before truly focusing of the words spoken by the witch sitting in front of him.

“You are Harry’s Mind-Healer?”

“I was for a period of time, yes.”

“I … didn’t know. I’m feeling like a prick at the moment.”

“It’s challenging to witness the suffering of a loved one,” the witch simply stated. “It requires much strength.”

“I am …” Draco gazed upon her. “Harry and I were in a relationship years ago, are you aware of that?” he asked.

“I’m aware. I can’t share what Harry told me during our private sessions, I’m sure you understand, but there’s a reason why I wanted to see you.”

The Mind-Healer joined hands under her chin.

“Harry’s been through a lot. The Dementors who captured him played on his worst fears to feed on the emotions connected to his past traumas. It was draining for him, agonizing.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m not saying this to hurt you, but in order to help you understand more about Harry’s mental state and understand if you can be of help in his recovery too.”

“I would never hurt him again, I swear,” Draco uttered. “I would rather …” he bit his lower lip, trying to control the trembling of it. “If there’s anything I can do, I’m willing.”

The Mind-Healer smiled at him with sincere compassion.

“Right now Harry needs a quiet place to regain his strength and emotional balance. Since his immediate family members, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, lead a busy life and due to Minister Granger’s public profile, I was searching for a more discrete accommodation. Teddy Lupin’s currently too busy with his work and this points me in your direction. You could take care of Harry as he recovers,” she joined her hands above her chin, her careful eyes fixed on Draco. “But taking care of Harry will require certain premises.”

“I’m ready for anything.”

Eunomia Stanmore tilted her head.

“Harry needs a safe place to stay, a place that doesn’t elicit painful thoughts or memories, a place where he can feel at home.”

Draco thought about the Manor, ancient and cold and a theatre of many horrors during the war.

“I’m ruling out Grimmauld Place,” she added. “Because Harry often felt very alone in his own house. Can you think about someplace else where he would feel welcome?”

“Yes.”

“Can you take him there and let him stay for as long as he’ll need?”

“I can.”

“One last question, Mister Malfoy, the most important,” she said. “Do you still love Harry Potter?”

“I do.”

*

The house was located in the southwest bay of Gozo, in the middle of the Mediterranean. It faced the blue sea and the bigger island of Malta. Stony hills covered it, and the seagulls soared above it.

Draco and Harry Apparated in the beach nearby, alongside an Auror and Minister Hermione Granger, who wanted to hug her best friend one last time before going back to her duties.

“I love you so much, Harry,” she said tearfully. “You’re going to be okay.”

Harry’s hands trembled mid-air before he was able to return the hug.

“You’ll be fine,” she smiled, cupping his weary face. “Take care of him for us, please,” she added, turning to Draco.

The wizard solemnly nodded.

“It’s safe here,” the Auror said. “Protected.”

“That’s it,” Hermione smiled again, tears shining in her dark eyes. “I’ll see you soon, Harry.”

“Goodbye, boss.”

The two traveling companions Disapparated, leaving Draco and Harry alone on the beach.

“Would you like to go inside, and or do you prefer taking a walk around the bay?” Draco asked after few moments of embarrassed silence.

Harry glared at him.

“Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” Draco replied.

The luggage appeared next to him with a soundly pop.

“Polite,” Harry said. “Way too kind.”

“I’m trying my best.”

“Do you think I’ll break down? Am I so fragile for you?”

Draco didn’t answer immediately, hurt by the harshness in Harry’s voice.

“No,” he replied. “I know well how strong you are.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“I _know_ , Harry,” he repeated. He had pondered on the weight of his words and truly knew how resilient and tough Harry was. “But I want you to feel safe here, to loosen the tension.”

“I’m not tense.”

“I’m sorry but …”

“Don’t apologise!” Harry screamed. “You’re apologising too much! You’re being too careful! I’m not going to break!”

“I know.”

“Do you really?” the Auror spinned around, his breathing becoming more elaborate, hands shaking and searching for his newly shaved hair. “It’s too much! Too warm here!”

“Let me take you inside, you need to rest.”

“Why?” Harry turned to him. “Why are you doing this now? You didn’t want me before!”

Draco stood very still, his tall figure illuminated by the midday sun.

“Why?” Harry roared again, finding purpose in his rage. “You left me! If this is pity …”

“This is everything but pity, believe me.”

Draco took a step forward and Harry turned away from him.

“I wanna go home!” He sobbed with childlike desperation. “But it’s so painful over there … Why does it have to hurt this much? I’m so fucking tired of hurt,” he cried, stepping towards the sea.

Draco’s blood froze in his veins. Seeing Harry approach that blue vastness felt ominous.

“Harry, stop!” he shouted. “Stop and look at me!” he didn’t try to touch him, but moved closer to ensure he would have been able to stop any attempt of self-harm. “Look at me, please.”

Slowly Harry complied, nails digging in his arms, eyes unusually lowered. Draco decided to be completely honest for the first time in decades.

“I’m doing this because I care for you, Harry,” he whispered and waited for the outraged reaction that didn’t arrive. Harry was only staring at him. “ _Because I love you._ ”

“You don’t!”

“I do! I didn’t live up to it back then, but I do!” Draco affirmed with all the strength that his true conviction gave him. He wouldn’t have permitted anyone to question his feelings for Harry, not even him. “And if this means that you’ll hate me while we’re staying here, that’s fine: hate me, because I deserve it! But I do love you, I never stopped!”

Harry shook his head, glasses steamy for the recent cry.

“Then why …”

“Why did I leave you?” Draco finished for him. “Because I was weak,” he admitted. “Because I wanted you but I didn’t want to deal with the consequences, because I wasn’t brave enough to fight for you with my parents, because I enjoyed basking in the warmth of your love but gave so little in return.”

He covered the distance between them and held his hands up for a minute, letting Harry know that he wanted to touch him.

“I thought I loved you,” he said. “But I didn’t know what it meant to love someone so deeply and I didn’t want to sacrifice anything to it,” he caressed his beloved’s face that looked too tired and pale in the sun. “This isn’t for me, Harry. I won’t ask anything of you. But you took care of me so many times and in so many different ways … allow me to return the kindness, just this once.”

Harry closed his eyes and Draco felt the urge to kiss him. In another life, one where he was brave enough to deserve it, he would have done so. He would have closed the little distance between them and kissed Harry with all he had. But he had promised, and this truly wasn’t for him. It was for Harry, finally all for Harry.

“Let me take you inside,” he whispered, pressing only a chaste peck on his beloved’s forehead.

Harry shifted until his nose brushed on his lips, then nodded.

*

The first week passed in a torpor of convalescence. Harry slept in the mornings and very little at night. He’d toss and turn for hours before falling into a pitiful sleep, plagued by nightmares. He didn’t want to bother Draco or call him in the middle of the night and have him come in the master bedroom where he was staying.

He did agree on taking restorative potions and keeping a regular posting to Ron and Hermione. He sent an owl to them every other day and, randomly, he added a message for Teddy too.

He didn’t feel like talking much and, most of the time, he simply listened to Draco. His favorite pastime seemed to be sitting on the veranda and watching at the seagulls fly.

Sometimes, he let Draco sit next to him and stare in silence.

*

“I was thinking,” Draco said, pouring milk into his afternoon tea. They were sitting in the veranda, watching the sunset. “You enjoyed Ron’s visit last friday, didn’t you? It was nice to see someone else in the house. Sometimes I’m afraid I’m a dull company in here … but since we have a couch and another bed in my room, I was hoping we could arrange for Teddy and Scorpius to visit.”

“Teddy and Scorpius?”

“For a weekend, maybe. They could enjoy the island and Malta, too, and then come here to stay with us a bit.”

Harry looked at him, unsure.

“Would they want to stay with us?” he asked.

“Of course they will,” Draco replied, fighting the urge to lean forward and take his hand. “I’m worried because they would probably be loud, or as loud as boys of their age are.”

“I’m not …”

“If you don’t feel enough rested for it, it’s fine too. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Do you miss Scorpius?” Harry asked point-blank.

Draco took a sip of tea before answering him.

“He’s not a child anymore.”

“But you’re here and he’s in England.”

“Yes, I suppose I would like if he’d come to visit. But it was worse at Hogwarts, when we were apart for months. I didn’t understand how painful that school is for a parent, until my son had to go.”

Harry looked back at the rose-colored sky.

“I’ve always believed that Hogwarts was the best place in the world, the only place where I belonged, at least.”

“Scorpius enjoyed there too. It wasn’t quite so traumatic, I must have said it wrong ...”

“I don’t want to scare him,” Harry spoke abruptly once again.

Draco frowned, stunned by the change of topic.

“How would you do that?”

“Seeing me like this.”

“Harry,” he murmured, taking his hand. “Scorpius is not a child anymore, really, and he cares about you very much. He’s not unfamiliar with the idea of a loved one being ill.”

Harry blushed at the implication.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean …”

“That’s alright,” Draco said, raising from the seat. “I’m going to wash the cups,” he smiled, pointing his wand to have them float into the kitchen.

“You’re not a dull company,” Harry told him. “I feel safe with you.”

*

Scorpius and Teddy arrived on a sunny Sunday afternoon. They brought large amounts of food that would have been sufficient to feed a battalion, plus various notes and cards from Harry’s co-workers and friends.

It was a cheerful time. When Draco glanced at Harry, he spotted him smile, far more than in the previous days. It was the best weekend Draco had in a while.

*

“I have to go back too,” Scorpius explained to his father, while he was busy cooking vegetable broth. “I have one day left, but I think that I’ll stay until five and then get going. Teddy is already in London.”

“How do you know that?”

“Phone, dad.”

“I see. Would you require anything?”

“What would I require?” Scorpius grinned, biting on a golden apple. “It was nice here. I didn’t remember how beautiful the island was.”

Harry walked through the kitchen door in jeans and a shirt.

“Since it’s your last morning in the island, I thought we could have a walk,” he proposed.

Scorpius finished the apple.

“Sure!”

*

They spotted a lovely sandy beach, surrounded by hills and the sparking turquoise sea. Scorpius walked into the sand and he plunged his feet into the water.

“That’s it!” he announced triumphantly. “That’s the spot! Do you remember it? When I was a kid, you brought me here!”

Harry shook his head. Draco frowned at him.

“You must remember, Harry,” Scorpius insisted. “It was cold and this place was deserted, that’s why you were able to perform a Patronus charm. It was beautiful!”

“Let’s go back,” Harry uttered. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Harry …”

“Let’s go!” he cried. “I don’t have this memory anymore! _They took it from me!”_

Draco stood still as Harry clenched a fist into his sleeve.

“No, they didn’t,” Scorpius replied with determination. “You know they can’t, Harry. Dementors can’t take our happiest memories, they can only hope we forget we were ever happy. You taught me this.”

“I was wrong.”

“But you must remember,” the young man said. “You must remember how blue the sky was … there were seagulls, just like today,” he took a step forwards. “I was so sad because of my mother, because I missed her so much. I couldn’t stop feeling the pain.”

“Scorpius …” Draco warned. He felt Harry’s grip loosening, his hand shaking.

“That summer was the saddest of my life,” Scorpius said. “But you and dad brought me here. I remember you telling me about your happiest memories and how you recalled them when you needed to perform a Patronus. You did the charm in front of me; it most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen! A strong stag that stepped into the waves … I wanted to be an Auror right then.”

Harry fell on his knees.

“My father … he had the same …"

“You told me,” Scorpius murmured, kneeling next to him. “Your father had a stag too, and when you did the charm, you felt close to him.”

Harry nodded between sobs. Draco lowered himself and welcomed him into his arms.

“And you told me that happiness can be found even in the darkest times,” Scorpius added. “So here it is, _Expecto Patronum!”_

He waved his wand until a shining falcon appeared from the tip and rose into the sky. Harry watched it unfold the wings, and soar into the horizon.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered. “It’s beautiful, _kiddo_ ,” he added with a smile.

Scorpius mouthed an excited ‘yes’ and Harry took his hand, squeezing it. He felt lightness bubble into his chest, a familiar warmth that meant joy and love. He cried again, but turned to Draco to let him see his grin. He felt him breathe out in relief and buried his head in his arms.

He allowed himself the joy of being held by the Malfoy men, the ones who loved him.

*

Draco and Harry hugged Scorpius goodbye that afternoon; Susie and Rose were waiting for him at La Valletta with a portkey. Harry gave the boy a message for the young Aurors and Draco hugged his son one more time, whispering a thank you.

Back at the house, Harry retired to his bedroom.

*

“Can I come in?” Draco asked, carrying a tray with tea and cake. “I thought you might want to eat something.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “Yes, come in.”

He was sitting on the bed, wearing joggers, a blue shirt and a soft woolen jacket. He had cleaned his glasses and fixed his already too long buzzcut.

“You took a shower,” Draco noticed, placing the tray on the bed. “And changed the sheets.”

“It needed to be done.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Drained,” Harry whispered. “Relieved.”

“I’m glad. Enjoy your snack, I’ll let you rest.”

“Draco,” he called, taking his hand. “Would you stay here?”

“Sure.”

Draco kneeled in front of him; his sleeves were rolled up and Harry was able to look at his bare arms for the first time in years. They were as he remembered: pale, crossed by blue veins, sinewy. The Dark Mark was a reddish shadow on one.

“I’m sorry if I behaved like a prat,” Harry said. “I felt so ... thought I had lost my happiest memories. I couldn’t remember your son, they way he smiled at me when he was a child, holding Teddy for the first time, having Hermione and Ron call for me.”

“Love …”

“Hearing you say you love me,” Harry whispered. “I hurt you, I’m sorry.”

Draco held his face, feeling the dampness of fresh tears falling down.

“Harry, you were hurt. It’s okay. You’ve been so brave and strong, but you’re human too.”

Harry sobbed, his glasses foggy once again.

“I let them scare me! I was scared!”

Draco leaned forwards and held him in his arms.

“But you’re here,” he whispered, pressing desperate kisses on his forehead, cheeks and eyebrows. “You’re here and you’re safe. I’m so relieved,” he said, pressing one final kiss on the bridge of Harry’s nose.

Closer than ever, Draco was able to distinguish every teardrops falling from the long, dark eyelashes, the emerald green behind the glasses, the quickening of his breath.

“I’ll let you rest,” he whispered, hoarse.

“Don’t go,” Harry said, holding his hands. “Don’t go, Draco. Please. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I … me too.”

“When we were together,” he smiled, lips brushing against his lover’s thumb. “It was the happiest time of my life.”

Draco leaned forwards to kiss him, open mouthed and fierce until they both ran out of breath. He climbed on the bed, one steady knee between Harry’s thighs, the other pushing forward as Harry was falling back, pulling him along.

They kept on kissing, the teapot and cups placed at the edge of the mattress clinking as they moved against each other, wildly at first and then slower, finding their lost rhythm. Harry groaned, hips snapping forward.

“I need you,” he panted, ruffling Draco’s everly tidy blond hair. “I need you so much.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Yes, please.”

Draco used his wand to place the tray away, carefully removed Harry’s glasses and put them on the nightstand. He unbuttoned his shirt and trousers, before spelling himself naked. He turned to Harry, laying on the bed, and the moment of self-cosciousness was wiped away by his smile.

“It’s been so long.”

Draco nodded, climbed on the bed and on top of him.

“Let me,” he reached for Harry’s joggers and pushed them down alongside the black boxers he was wearing. He helped him take off the woolen jacket and pulled the shirt up.

Harry’s body was as gorgeous as he remembered; sharp hips and scars, hard muscles shaped by years of training, knobby knees and black hairs covering his stomach and chest.

Draco wanted to smile at all the details he correctly recalled, wanted to cry at all the years wasted without loving each other. He pressed his lips on Harry’s groin and licked the stripe of hair from his navel to his cock, taking it in his mouth. A gentle hand stopped him.

“I need you inside.”

He leaned forward to kiss Harry, then whispered a spell to prepare him and lifted his legs. Harry bit his lip.

“Yes,” he murmured as Draco entered him. “Yes, yes …” he chanted, eyes blissfully rolled back, mouth open.

As Harry wrapped his legs on his back and dug his nails into his shoulders, Draco felt the rush of being inside him after so long. He arched, hips thrusting in a frenzied pace, the power of his orgasm almost surprising him. He was with Harry, _Harry … finally, finally …_

“Yes,” he sobbed, kissing Harry’s smiling, tearstained face. As he pulled out, he saw the result of Harry’s own orgasm. He kissed him with delightful slowness, then kneeled on the floor, in front of the bed, pulling Harry closer to the edge.

“What ...”

Draco didn’t let him finish; he spelled him clean and spread his legs, before diving in to taste him once again.

*

They made love as the sun set, until there were stars above and the sky was black and blue. Kneeled in front of his lover’s spread legs, Draco pleasured him slowly and thoroughly, savoring frustrated groans and relieved moans, tasting the flesh still swollen and red from the recent love making, until Harry fisted his cock with trembling hands and came.

He was rewarded with Harry’s talented mouth on his cock, head moving up and down under his palms, and the sweet kisses they shared in the afterglow.

They caught their breaths lying in silence, chests raising and falling in synch, Harry’s finger caressing the curve of Draco’s arm.

“You’re worried,” he whispered.

“I’m thinking,” Draco replied.

“About what will happen when we go back?”

He nodded, closing his eyes.

“If you think we should take this one step at ...”

“I love you,” Harry said. Draco opened his eyes to see his tender smile in the darkness, his eyes shining with joy. “I love you, Draco.”

“Why are you telling me like this?”

“You said it to me before and I didn’t say it back. You proved it in so many ways since we’ve arrived here, it makes me feel happy. I love you too, you know?”

Draco sighed, tears falling down his face.

“So many tears,” Harry murmured kissing them away. “Too many, love.”

“I thought I’d lost you … forever … I ...”

Harry climbed on top of him, holding his face.  
  
“I’m here, forever.”

*

_Seven Months Later_

 

The springtime sun was shining on the clear water, where the seagulls were searching for fishes to catch. Scorpius, Teddy and Susie were playing a game against Rose, Hugo and Victoire; their laughs resonating in the narrow bay.

Harry was watching them from the veranda when he spotted Draco walking up the stony pathway, carrying the groceries. He jumped off the stairs and ran towards him.

“Good morning to you,” Draco grinned. “You’re very happy to help, I see,” he added, handing him a bag full of tomatoes and onions.

Harry placed it on the pavement.

“Are we going to eat in there, because ....”

He kneeled solemnly, pulling something small and blue out of his pocket.

Draco froze, his arms closing around a bag of bread.

“This is going to work better if you put that away,” Harry smiled at him. He opened the blue box showing the ring inside, whistles and shouting coming from the background. “Draco, love of my life, you make me happy every day and I couldn’t imagine a better life than the one I’m living with you … you see where this is going?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you think about it?”

“Yes, yes!” Draco put the bag away and held his face, he bent forwards and kissed him soundly. “I want to marry you.”

The kids came running from the beach, curious about the ring and the date and the many other things. Draco and Harry didn’t seem to hear them.

 

 

 


End file.
